Body of Steel

Against Riley, Lance used finesse.

Against Beckwith, he leveraged their momentum.

Against Adams, it was sheer force.

Three different defenders, three different strategies. Lance showcased all his hidden skills, going from agility to speed, and then brute strength. He ran straight into Adams with no tricks or misdirection—just a raw, head-to-head clash.

Crash!

Dig in!

Push!

Even if a mountain stood before him, Lance wouldn't back down. Drawing deep from within, he powered his legs, unleashing an explosive burst of energy from his core.

"Ah!"

One step.

"Ah!"

Two steps.

"Ahhh!"

Incredible! Adams clung tightly to Lance, refusing to let go, but Lance drove forward like a strongman pushing a truck in a Guinness World Record challenge. The turf beneath his feet tore up as he moved, clumps of grass spraying behind him, while waves of energy surged up from his heels, propelling him further.

Adams held on, but everything around him shook violently. He was stumbling, losing his footing like a leaf in a storm. Without a solid base, he couldn't exert his full strength. Struggling to maintain his grip on Lance's waist, Adams attempted to use a judo move, leveraging his weight to bring Lance down.

With a grunt, Adams tried to throw Lance backward in a wrestling-style takedown. But instead of going down, Lance's body, as heavy as iron, didn't give way. Adams' effort only shifted their balance slightly, and both men tumbled forward.

Boom!

A shockwave seemed to erupt on the field, with dust and turf flying as the two bodies collided and fell.

The stadium fell into stunned silence.

Even the LSU Tigers' fans were momentarily speechless, frozen by the sheer force of what they'd just witnessed. The intensity of the raw, physical confrontation left them at a loss for words.

And then—

A figure stood up, fists clenched, face flushed, veins popping, looking every bit like a warrior who had just emerged from battle. Lance let out a guttural roar, a primal scream that echoed throughout the stadium like thunder.

"Ahhhh! Ahhh!"

His shout was powerful, commanding, and electrifying, carrying an air of dominance. It silenced the crowd for a brief moment before filling the stadium with a crackling energy.

Lance didn't retreat or lower his head; he stood tall, chin slightly raised, his gaze determined as he stared down the entire stadium. His message was clear: let the storm come, and let it come harder.

Third-and-six? Converted.

Not only had Lance picked up six yards, but he also added two more on top of it, bulldozing through with sheer willpower. The field bore witness to his effort, with two torn-up lines of grass marking his path.

Behind him, it was a battlefield littered with bodies, a testament to the carnage left in his wake.

Even though LSU had assigned three defenders to contain Lance, they couldn't stop him. He had carved a path, plowing through Riley, knocking down Beckwith, and overpowering Adams, securing the crucial third-down conversion and signaling the beginning of the Crimson Tide's comeback.

Lance's relentless determination and strength had silenced Tiger Stadium.

But only for a second.

Suddenly, Tiger Stadium erupted with even more ferocity, as the fans, unwilling to accept defeat, began chanting, "Go Tigers!"

The intensity of the home crowd redoubled. A wave of noise, like an impending storm, came crashing down as 100,000 fans shouted in unison, trying to overwhelm the lone figure who had just defied their team.

"Go Tigers!"

The air was thick with sound, reverberating like thunder. The atmosphere in this rivalry match had reached a fever pitch.

Riley turned to look at Beckwith and Adams, and for a brief moment, doubt flickered in his eyes. But Adams shot him a fierce look, reigniting their determination.

They couldn't afford to lose their nerve.

A "three versus one" scenario was already embarrassing. If they allowed Lance to keep converting third downs, they'd be a laughingstock, especially if they couldn't stop one man. Worse yet, their NFL draft prospects could take a hit.

They couldn't afford to flinch, back down, or show fear.

"Get it together. We're three against one," Adams barked at Riley and Beckwith, reigniting their fire.

The game pressed on.

Even though it was a struggle, the Crimson Tide finally managed to get a first down, breaking through LSU's defense and finding a small glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

With Lance's rallying cry, the Crimson Tide's offense regained a bit of its spark. One by one, players came over to bump fists with him. There wasn't time for a big celebration, but they made sure to acknowledge the momentum Lance had given them.

"Well done, Lance!"

"Beautiful!"

"We've got this!"

One player after another, including Robinson, gave Lance a congratulatory handshake and a shoulder bump, reinvigorating their fighting spirit.

Even Hurts couldn't help but pump his fist in excitement.

Lance noticed Hurts and the other teammates looking at him, but he made sure to focus his attention on Hurts.

"Hey, I know I'm pretty great, but we're a team," Lance said, grinning. "We win as a team, and we face challenges as a team."

"I'll do my part, but you all have to do yours, too."

"They're going to be even more focused on me now, so I'm the bait. Their defensive setup is shifting too much toward me."

"We need to take advantage of that."

Hurts locked eyes with Lance, processing the words. He understood. "Play action?"

Lance nodded. "We need to fully open up the offense. Only then will we make them lose focus and relieve some pressure on the running game."

Lance knew his limits. The kind of run he had just made drained a lot of his stamina and energy. He could probably pull it off once or twice more, but if they kept relying solely on him, it would eventually lose its effectiveness, and the offense would stall again.

"But not yet," Lance added, cutting Hurts off mid-thought.

"If we jump straight to play action, it'll be too obvious. Their defense isn't stupid."

"For now, we need to disrupt their expectations. If we let them control the pace, we'll keep playing into their hands. We need to shift the game to our terms."

"The key is you," Lance said, his eyes fixed on Hurts.

Hurts, his pupils shaking with fear, stammered, "M-me?"

Before Hurts could protest, Lance continued.

"Yes, you."

"We need to open up new running lanes, and I think it's time to try something else—like a fake handoff. Let them think I'm running, but actually, you take off."

Hurts paused for a second, confused. "Wait, isn't that just a read-option?"

Lance laughed. "I know what a read-option is. Remember how Coach Watson embarrassed our defense with it during preseason? That was a read-option, right?"

Lance had never backed down from learning.

"We tried it in the first half, but it didn't work that well, did it? This time, we're not just reading the option."

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Powerstones?

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